


lover to lover (no salvation for me now)

by passeridae



Series: Neon Noir [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Bottom Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Disassociation, Dom/sub Undertones, Gabriel Reyes Makes Poor Life Choices, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22492648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passeridae/pseuds/passeridae
Summary: Set immediately after the Talon Council meeting in petitecreame's Neon Noir verse. Gabriel needs something, anything to dull the ache of Jack's death. Akande wants Gabriel, and is willing to take what he can get."He invites himself to Akande’s rooms in the early hours of the morning, once he knows the man’s supped and dressed down for the night. Knocks softly on the door, still dressed in his outfit of black and gold. He knows that Akande likes to see him dressed like a king."
Relationships: Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Series: Neon Noir [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626139
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	lover to lover (no salvation for me now)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [petitecreame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitecreame/gifts).



> This work is heavily inspired by petitecreame's Neon Noir universe, in particular the Talon committee meeting in: https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1049710
> 
> It may well not make sense without some knowledge of that verse.

The meeting goes well enough, he supposes. He’s not at the table, of course, he hasn’t earned that privilege yet. No, instead he lounges to the side, pretty and silent, waiting for them to finish, listening to what they say but not really _there_. Not like he usually is. The boning in his jacket digs into his waist, his chains chafe at his skin. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Not anymore. He can’t help himself, thoughts of Jack roll through his head, ceaseless, unending, consuming. His Jack, his darling, sunsoaked Jack — dead. Rotting in some dark infested place. Not already decomposed as he’s thought, no, but actively decaying as he sits, and waits, and aches. 

All the work they’d done together to bring Talon down, all the work he was still doing, infiltrating, and seducing, and using every trick he knew in the name of stopping the men who’d had Jack killed. When his meaning for fighting had been taken from him, what was left? He’d thought Jack dead, and grieved, and used that hurt to drive him through the things he needed to do to claw his way up the Talon hierarchy. Through the killing and the blood and his knees scraped red from carpet. Through the showers that ran pink but couldn’t wash away the scabs.

Now, though. Now, for all that he aches, it’s a numb, pulsing thing. He’s been emptied out, the fire of his rage having burned through and left nothing but a frigid hollowness behind. It’s consuming, weighs his body down until he can scarcely move. He struggles to keep his shape human, to not break down into a puddle of electronics and static ridden, ceaseless sorrow.

The meeting concludes, and Akande makes his way over from the table, white suit still impeccable even though Gabriel knows he’s been working since early morning. Tying up loose ends. Gabriel can’t help but follow his motion with his eyes, the brightest thing in the night. From where Gabriel’s sitting, he looms like a mountain as he approaches. “Ah, my Reaper,” he greets. He has a contented smile on his face, an unusual look for him. The cat who got the cream, and the canary besides. Gabriel wonders if he’s the canary, in all this. He certainly feels like one.

He and Akande talk, though if you’d asked him afterwards, Gabriel couldn’t say what they’d spoken of. He responded when appropriate, agreeing, demuring. Rote. His pain was too great, he couldn’t break away from it. It tugged at his legs, his waist, trying to pull him under and into despair. Through the haze, though, he remembers the touch of a hand on his face. Of leaning into it like a dog, starved, despite himself. Of baring his neck as Akande’s finger slid across his lips. Fluttering his eyelashes, just this side of coy. 

That, too, is rote, though from a slightly different script. He knows that Akande wants him, has invited it, even. It’s made his infiltration work easier, in a way, having one of Talon’s leaders draw him close and whisper secrets in his ear. Having Akande take him to parties as a pretty thing to be shown off, having access to his rooms even if only for brief slivers of time. For all Akande prides himself on being able to keep his secrets close, he’s only human, and Gabriel has always known that the key is to be there when he does let something slip. But right now, he’s not thinking of any that. He’s consumed by the deep, empty aching in his chest, the hole where Jack used to fit. He needs something, anything, to make it go away. Just for a while. Just so he can get himself together. Just one night.

He invites himself to Akande’s rooms in the early hours of the morning, once he knows the man’s supped and dressed down for the night. Knocks softly on the door, still dressed in his outfit of black and gold. He knows that Akande likes to see him dressed like a king. _Fitting, for one so fine,_ he’d told Gabriel once, tracing the embroidery with a finger. Gabriel doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s turned away. The pain lurks just under his skin, chills him from fingertip to heel, and he can feel it scrabbling for control.

There’s a breathless moment and then a voice calls from within, and Gabriel lets out a deep breath before stepping through the threshold. The door closes behind him with a soft click.

“My Reaper, this is a pleasant surprise.” Akande is sitting, sprawled on a pale cream sofa in nothing but sleep pants. He holds a tablet in one hand, a crystal glass of something amber in the other, looks profoundly decadent in the soft light. A prince in repose. Gabriel swallows, opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again. He has through through making his way to Akande’s rooms, requesting entry, but no further and he curses the hurt that muddles his judgement. He can’t be turned away now, he can’t.

Akande, rather than being displeased with his silence, seems amused. Perhaps he just likes that Gabriel has nothing to say, for once. After it’s clear that Gabriel’s not going to start speaking, he commands, “come here,” without even looking up from his tablet. Gabriel walks forwards on bare feet until he’s looming over Akande, a distorted parallel to their interaction earlier in the night. Except, of course, Gabriel doesn’t feel that he has the power, of the two of them. Akande wears his bare body just the same as his suits, every muscle and inch of skin radiating confidence. He inclines his head, and with a breath of relief, Gabriel kneels at his feet.

This, at least, is easy enough. Akande likes to draw things out, to make him wait for it, and Gabriel just needs to indulge him. He runs his fingers through Gabriel’s silvered hair between sips of his drink, directs his head so that his cheek is pressed against one of Akande’s thighs, so he’s laid out in a single sinuous line, his skirts slipping to reveal flashes of thigh. Akande hums, uses one foot to shift the fabric so it pools at his groin, skin bared all the way up to the hip. “I do like this one, you should wear it more often,” he says, offhand, gaze returning to his reading. Gabriel hums low, trying so hard not to think. 

He tries to bury himself in sensory information — the rose scent of Akande’s soap, the soft carpet under his leg, the drag of crisp white linen against his cheek and beard. Not sandalwood, not floorboards, not Jack’s bare skin as he laughs at how Gabriel’s beard tickles his inner thigh. No. The scraped-bare emptiness yawns in his chest and he has to grind his teeth to stop it from swallowing him up. He can’t stop the smoke rising off his skin in delicate corkscrews, but that’s hardly new. He breathes through it, waits for his heart to calm again. 

Akande clicks his tongue behind his teeth as he finally puts his tablet down, his slight frown smoothing as he looks back at Gabriel. “Now that there are no more distractions to deal with, would you tell me why you are here, my Reaper?”

He knows why Gabriel’s here, the ass, he just likes to make Gabriel say it. Gabriel looks up at him through his lashes, tilts his head back, feline, enticing. He’s been acting this for so long, it’s almost as easy as breathing, even when he’s fracturing under the surface. “I was feeling… lonely, and wanted some good company, sir.”

He finishes the sentence with his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. Akande’s eyes follow the motion appraisingly. “And you consider me to be good company? You flatter me.” His hand is still threaded through Gabriel’s hair, heavy on his scalp. He’s so cold. The only spots of warmth are the places that Akande is touching him. 

“I visit you often enough, sir, I would have thought that it would be obvious.” He aims for a teasing lilt in his tone, but only partially succeeds if Akande’s face is any indication. A displeased darkening of his eyes, but a pleased quirk of the lip. A tug at his scalp, the unspoken command, _up._

Once Gabriel is on his feet, Akande releases his hair. His hand trails down Gabriel’s face, thumb catching at the corner of his lip. “Strip,” he tells Gabriel, turning towards the bed. “Then come over here.”

Gabriel starts to undress. He expects that the release of the cinching around his waist to be a relief, but instead he just feels untethered. Too light, like a strong breeze could blow him away. He fiddles with the golden chain around his neck, trying to disentangle it from the neckline of the garment, and at the sound of it Akande pauses where he’s been arranging the pillows and, without turning, says, “do leave that on, however.”

Gabriel does so, letting the fabric of his clothing drop off his shoulders and pool at his feet like a sea of nanites ready to whisk him away. He steps out of it, towards Akande, who finally turns and looks over him appraisingly. “Gold most assuredly does suit you,” he says, placing one hand on Gabriel’s chest, over the chain dangling from his neck.

With his other hand, he gestures to the bed and Gabriel allows himself to sink on to it, to lie back to be devoured. “Thank you, sir.”

Akande’s first order of business is tying his wrists to the bedhead with the fine gold chain, which he does with alacrity. The chain is long enough that, even tied tight around Gabriel’s wrists, and looped around the bedhead, a coil still rests around his neck, collecting in the hollow of his throat in a spill of gleaming metal. Like a slit throat, Gabriel thinks, blood puddling around the wound as he bleeds out. Akande’s hands are gentle, but sure as they finish their work and slide down Gabriel’s bare arms. Once more enjoying the sight laid before him. Akande has never been shy about how much he enjoys Gabriel, both in and out of his bed.

Gabriel lets himself drift, softens into the mattress and arches his back so he can feel Akande’s weight is heavy over his thighs. The hands on his waist tighten in reprimand, and if it were anyone else that would be a triviality, but with Akande the strength in them easily breaks capillaries, blood bursting under the skin as Gabriel hisses. Akande wants him still tonight, apparently. It’s not what he’d prefer, but he can work with it. Can work with whatever he wants, so long as Akande doesn’t send him away.

So he lies there, pliant, stretched out, gasping and moaning in appreciation as Akande admires the skin on show for him with one hand, preps him with the other. There’s so much sensation — nails raking down his sides, the burn of the stretch as Akande’s fingers press deep, a caress so gentle it’s almost ticklish up his thigh. Akande twists the fingers he has inside Gabriel, his knuckles brushing against Gabriel’s prostate, and Gabriel whines as he tries to relax around the burn and stretch. It’s so much, yet only a prelude to more. Delicious and overwhelming. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to where and how Akande chooses to lay his attention, and Gabriel can do nothing but take it. Soon enough, though, Gabriel starts... drifting. The tempo of Akande’s thrusts slows, his petting becomes lighter against Gabriel’s skin. The sensations fade. Gabriel’s body seems, all of a sudden, so far away. Somehow alien. Someone else’s. There’s static not just in his vision, but in his fingertips as well.

He must become quiet, start to smoke, show some sign that he’s no longer present because he’s sharply pulled back to his body as Akande roughly shoves his fingers into Gabriel’s mouth and pulls his jaw open with his thumb. It doesn’t hurt, not quite, but it’s jarring and he chokes a little as the digits brush against his soft palate. He can’t swallow around them, not with how deep they’re pressing, not with his jaw forced open at the hinge, and he can feel dampness rapidly collecting under his tongue and threatening to escape the corners of his mouth. He notices that his breathing is sharp, panting, puffing warm air over Akande’s knuckles. Akande, whose face is so close to his, eyes piercing. “Back with me, my Reaper?” he asks, mild as milk. “I must be poor company indeed, for you to drift so.” He punctuates his sentence by pressing down on Gabriel’s tongue, digging his thumb even deeper into Gabriel’s jaw in order to pull him closer.

He can’t speak, can only whine weakly. The weight of his head is being held entirely by Akande’s grip, bruising, choking, domineering. All the other sensations are rushing in, all at once, the tingling in his fingertips, the syrupy heat in his nerves, Akande inside of him, seated deep. Gabriel doesn’t remember when he got there.

“Hm, perhaps I’m not the company you’re really wanting tonight. You were partners with 76 when you were working with the police, were you not?”

His voice is casual, inquiring, but that doesn’t lessen the pain that lances through Gabriel’s entire being. At the surge of memories, sunsoaked afternoons and Jack’s sleepy smile, the shattering of glass as his shotgun rang out. The smell of blood. He can keep any expression from crossing his face, but can’t hide the way he tenses, squeezing tight around Akande inside him. Can’t hide the aggravated coils of nanites that briefly surge under his skin.

“I... don't see how that's relevant.” Akande’s expression shades towards thunderous, so he adds, “sir,” at the end. He wants to swallow, but can’t with Akande’s fingers still pressed into his mouth. His voice sounds damp, like he’s been crying. He’s not sure he could cry, now, even if he wanted to. Perhaps this is the closest he’ll get.

Akande’s expression is unchanged as he says, “you weren’t making a sound as I fucked you, so unusual, my Reaper. I’m sure you can understand why I would ask — if you’re not enjoying this perhaps I should stop?” He starts pulling out, and Gabriel snaps his legs tight around Akande’s waist, could almost sob at the way Akande keeps moving away as if the crushing force is nothing but an annoyance. He removes his fingers from Gabriel’s mouth, too, lets his head bounce against the bed underneath them as it drops down. Gabriel can feel the cold creeping back in, sliding its way down his chest and it aches like snow. 

He hates to do this, hates what it says about him, but he can’t help himself. He begs. “No. No, please. Sir, please.” He knows he’s trembling, hates that too. With a whine, he arches up, runs his lips along Akande’s jaw, pleads, breathy against his skin. “Sir, please, I need you.”

Akande lets him stew in it for a moment longer, before pushing back inside, fast, almost cruel. He’s much rougher, now, none of that slow sweetness from earlier, and Gabriel relishes it — he deserves it, deserves every twinge, every ache, focuses on Akande’s hands so he can feel them curled around his hips, tight enough to bruise. Holding him down. Focuses on the friction as Akande pushes too fast, too hard, forcing Gabriel to accommodate his cock. Focuses on the heat, rolling off his form and blanketing Gabriel in its warmth. In the past, he’d considered it cloying, almost suffocating, but now he can’t think of anything he wants more. He’s not sure he can remember the last time he was this warm. This solid. Not when he was Reaper, anyways. Not since…

Not since.

Every scratch, every nail digging into his skin just heats him more. He’s greedy for it, tugging at the chain around his wrists until they bleed, shifting his hips so Akande’s cock flirts with his prostate on every pass. Gabriel has to resist the urge to snarl, bite at Akande, scream. For all his greed, he’s still not sure if he wants Akande to get away or to fuck him harder. He needs Akande to make him forget. Akande has always been a mark, nothing else, just one more step on the path of vengeance, but right now everything’s so twisted up that Gabriel could be in love, or he could loathe Akande with every fibre of his being. It could be both. He wonders when those two things became the same inside him. 

Akande looks viciously satisfied at having got a response, at the way Gabriel is so desperate for his cock. He rewards him by reaching down to encircle Gabriel’s cock with one hand, twists his wrist as he’s seen Gabriel do to himself a dozen times before. Watches as Gabriel quickly falls apart, heat boiling through him as he bites down on his own arm to stopper the noises that want to come out. The name. His orgasm isn’t euphoric, but everything inside him tenses, shivers, then relaxes more than it has in days. He can feel Akande’s fingers digging into his hips, the rush of heat inside him as he comes, urged over the edge by Gabriel fluttering around him. Akande’s breath is harsh, hot, and he grins at Gabriel wild and broad. Grins like he’s won.

In the aftermath, Akande tells Gabriel to stay the night as he pulls his sleep pants back on then tucks the covers up over the both of them. He doesn’t offer to clean Gabriel up, and Gabriel’s too tired, too drained to ask him to do so. His wrists are still bleeding, sluggishly, over the chains that connect him to the bed. Akande doesn’t see fit to untie him. Instead, he falls asleep pressed against Gabriel’s back, one hand wrapped snug around his throat — Gabriel closes his eyes, and tries not to shiver from the cold that has already set back in.


End file.
